Page 96 of Perfect Playbook

“Yes…”

She doesn’t even have to utter another word, and I’m a fucking goner. My dick spurts and surges, spilling hot cum deep inside her. We come at the same time, our bodies taut with intense orgasms, me holding her hips, her the wall, to stop ourselves from totally collapsing on the floor.

We finally slow our pace, panting, and eventually I have no choice but to slide out. She comes up to standing, and I spin her immediately, needing more contact. I press my lips against hers.

That was everything. Shay isn’t a woman for a sensitive man. She doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve and shower you with words of affirmation. This showed me what I needed to know. She missed me, too.

I hold her against my chest. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

She gives me one of her famous one-syllable laughs. “Come on, Hunter you know what you have to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Smash it.”

I’m somehow more focused than ever, even though my gaze constantly slips to Shay, Nino, and Luis rink side, just behind the plexiglass. Though glimpses of Shay nearly crush my heart, I’m in so deep with that girl,Nino and Luis aren’t without impact. I want to win for them, too. Nino stands on his chair occasionally, secured by Shay. I can’t make out Luis’ cries from where I am, but his mouth has been open for so much of the game I can’t imagine he’ll have a voice left after this.

So even though we’re one up, when the coach sends me on for what is my last two minutes of the game, I want to make it count, make my little family proud. I want to see them scream until their cheeks are red.

This isn’t just a game anymore. I want Shay to be proud of me. I want her to be proud to be my wife.

Every one of my teammates is in good form, and none of us are complacent. But I have two minutes. The opposition piles toward our defense, and Ashton intercepts a shit attempt on our goal. He deftly glides away from me, but I know this play. It’s a fake. As expected, he sends it in a straight line right across the ice and straight to my stick.

As I glide across the ice, every heartbeat echoes in my ears, every breath rushes in and out, sharp and deliberate. My blades dig deep into the surface below in what will be my last chance to prove my worth today.

My focus narrows to a pinprick of light at the end of the rink. The goalie stands tall, an intimidating wall of determination, but when I close the gap between us, I see the chink in his armor. A split second of doubt flickers in his eyes, and as long as my aim is on, he’s fucking mine.

With a burst of speed, I barrel forward. The cold air bites my cheeks. Their defenders converge, their sticks slashing across the ice, but I’m in my own world now, a world where time slows and every move is muscle memory. Every move is a lifetime of passion, hard work, and destiny.

I feel the weight of the puck on my stick, an extension of my will. The tension in the air is palpable as I wind up,muscles coiling like springs. At this moment, it’s just me, the goalie, and the net.

With a thunderous crack, I release the shot. The puck screams through the air, a blur of black against the white ice. Time stands still as it sails past the goalie’s outstretched glove, a perfect arc toward its destination.

And then it happens. The net bulges, the red light flashes, and the crowd erupts into a deafening roar of cheers and applause.

But amidst the chaos, there’s only one sound that matters to me—the heartbeat in my ears, the gentle hum of my second chance.

The buzzer goes, and my teammates flood onto the ice, all heading right toward me, but I’m already flat up on the plexiglass, glove thrown down, hand splayed with Antonio’s mirroring mine on the other side. The little boy might stare at me, but I only have eyes for his mom.

Until Shay, hockey was the only thing I thought I was put on this earth to do. The approval I get from Shay Mendez right now makes even the mayhem in this arena totally disappear.

I finally know what it means to be content. I’m done. I couldn’t have found a better place for my feet to stop moving.

Chapter Thirty-One

Logan has been homefor the past few days, as home as a professional sportsman can be with games and practices. With Antonio in school further away, we needed to miss the games in the evening, it’s too much for him.

Though I miss Logan, I’m not that college girl anymore. Him being gone sometimes helps me focus on my business, it gives me time with Antonio alone, time to make sure my dad is still okay, although since my weekend away, it seems as though Joy Hunter is trying to take over that role.

It’s a blissful week and goes by in a blur untilDìa de los Muertos. In between the moments of work and my son,my time was filled with thoughts of Logan, so much so, I forgot to prepare for the arrival of my brothers.

It will be a moment of truth. They were pretty nice to me in Los Angeles, but I know they haven’t fully accepted anything, and two of them weren’t even here. They’re a veritable gang en mass.

Antonio is already over with my dad and brothers who arrived earlier this afternoon. I’m in the bathroom and have put the final touches on my sugar skull makeup and rhinestones. I slick back my hair and don my headpiece—a large, tall colorful crown of flowers. The dress I wear was my mom’s. Only five years ago did I finally decide to alter it for my size. In some ways, I’m her image: our eyes are dark as night, our hair to match, and she too had lengths of silver weaving through while only in her thirties. Our noses are feline. But unlike me, she was tall and slender, and thanks to my stature, it fits okay over my much more ample bust, but it was always too big or too tight. Now, it fits like a glove.

Today, I’m allowed to transform her death into a joyous celebration. With her spirit’s return, it might be Thursday, but for her it will be the weekend when she throws back her shot of schnapps. Today when I think of her, she isn’t sick. She is happy. She is smiling.

And my gosh is she staring back at me in the mirror.I almost laugh out loud. If I look like my mom, I must be old now. I learned through her what a gift, honor, and strength that is. I hope age has made me stronger. More bold. More powerful.

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